War
by Kironomi
Summary: "Karofsky?" he asked, squinting his eyes slightly, and his mouth dropped. Warnings: Kurtofsky;Steampunk AU;fould language; hints of Mercedes/Quinn;Finchel;Puck/Santana


David Karofsky hopped out of the stationed ship and stretched. Coughed a little; it had been so long since he had last been on land. The air around him was still misty due to the lingering steam but he knew he was in the right place. Somewhere beyond the fog in the harbour, he could hear the faint noise of hammering. Though the bridge he had landed on after three hours of seeing nothing was big enough for a whole fleet, one could not be too careful and he tip-toed his way down the passage.

"Finn! What did I say to you about leaving the clamps on the fucking floor?" Sam's voice was heard just metres from him.

David smiled. Always the same kind of arguments. The bridge ended inside the mechanics' barn. Large and tall iron beams supported the building. Inside, the building was big, more in height than in width and there was a mess of discarded hammers, crowbars and solid chunks of metal, iron and brass. In the centre there was a ship, smaller than his own, and by the seal on its left, he could see it belonged to a northern fleet. He wondered if the pilot was around. He could do with some news from the north, where Azimio was enlisted.

"Hey!" he said, trying his hardest to be heard without shouting.

Sam looked up from where he was squatting down on the floor and dropped the pliers he was using to twist some wires attached to the bottom part of the ship.

"Karofsky?" he asked, squinting his eyes slightly, and his mouth dropped.

"I'm glad to know you haven't forgotten my name!" he exclaimed as cheerfully as he could. He knew it must be a shock, seeing him after so many months.

"Oh, god, it's really you. Finn!" he yelled, looking up.

On an iron beam that crossed the building, about ten metres above their heads, Finn hung precariously with his legs wrapped around a vertical pole. Judging by his position, David could assume he was fixing the side valves of the machine's valvetrain.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, above, and Dave had to duck or that wrench really would have hit him!

"Finn, for Christ's sake! I come home to be taken down within five minutes?"

Even from that distance he could tell that the tall man had made one of his blank faces.

"Get down! I want to greet you properly!" he demanded, and Finn proceeded to run (albeit with great care) across the beam to some stairs.

Sam had, meanwhile, gotten up and approached him.

"Man..." he said, gripping his hand tightly and giving it a shake. Dave idly noticed the grease stains on his nose and cheeks and how his chest-nut brown cover-alls had completely turned black from his last visit. "How long have you been back?"

David shook his hand as well. "I just arrived. I stationed outside on the bridge, I hope it's not a hassle. You're the first person I have seen."

"Wow..." Sam commented "Is everything alright with you? You're not injured, are you?" he looked at him up and down and Dave shook his head. "Then your ship, does it need repair?"

"Nothing urgent." He informed him and extended his arm to Finn, who had just come down to a normal level. His brass goggles were pushed up to his head and they made his hair spike up at the most interesting angles. Finn wouldn't have any of hand shakes, of course, and instead gave him an awkward one-sided hug.

"Man, it's been a while. Kurt's been worrying himself sick."

Dave's heart stung like it had been hit with one of those acid bombs. Trust Finn to blatantly make one of those statements. He shrugged it off, however, with an "I know, I know." and ignored the matter.

They dragged him to a chair by one of the work tables (yes, dragged him, because he had been sitting for twelve hours straight on that fucking dumpster and he could no longer sit without fidgeting) and started interrogating him.

"What was it like?"

"How many did you kill?"

"Where did you go?"

Dave dismissed all those questions; he'd never answer them to anyone. Only he should have the punishment of knowing the truth that lay beyond the mountains, in the battlefield. So, instead, he replied that the war was on their side and that the Western front (the one he had fought) was getting weaker with their attacks.

"Whose ship is this?" he asked, trying to change the subject from him.

"Puck's." Finn answered and, at Dave's astonished expression, explained "He enlisted just after you left. He kept saying things like you were the right one, that the town's men were weak and scared of fighting the enemy. You know him." Dave nodded, remembering how enthusiastically Puck had bid him goodbye in his farewell party and how he had told him that, if he stayed, it was for Santana. He also remembered how bitter he had sounded when he had told him that over his fifth beer.

"Santana tried to get him to return many times." Sam continued "He is on leave now. Said he'd return to the North in a week, though. What about you?"

David looked up and sighed before Finn and Sam's expectant faces.

"I have two weeks."

"Oh." Finn exhaled, and left it at that.

The room had gotten silent, with its two workers on pause, so it was easy to hear the office's door opening.

"Finn, it's already your fourth break this afternoon alone. What do you think- "Burt's voice was strangled in mid-sentence.

"Karofsky? What are you doing here?"

Dave almost smirked at the unpleasantness in the voice. Burt had never really been supportive of his relationship with his son. He had told him, many years ago, or maybe not so many-he could no longer remember-that he was no good, too rough around the edges for his son's taste. It seemed it had gotten worse during his six months absence. He could understand it, though, the protectiveness regarding Kurt. He felt it as well.

He got up to greet Burt but the man remained with his stone expression looking fixedly at Dave's eyes.

"You really have some nerve..." he spat, and returned to the office. David squared his shoulders and dropped the hand he had extended.

Finn looked at him sympathetically. "You know, man..."he started and Dave replied with yet another "I know." But he didn't know anything, really. Before he went to war, they all lived miserably. Sure, they had a bit of money, mostly earned by repairing the ships that landed on Burt's workshop. Even Dave had worked at Burt's for quite some time; that was how he had met Kurt, actually. Mercedes' pub (which was a kind of motel as well) also contributed to the town's wealth. But Lima was a small town nonetheless and was, as such, threatened by possible raids and sky pirates. More than once they had fallen victims to ' crew. They had only been stopped from robbing the town's houses completely one time because of Rachel's cry for help when she heard a strange noise downstairs in the house she shared with Finn. He remembered it clearly for it had been his turn as the watcher. He had not known then how they could have passed right by him without him noticing it, but all those months in the war and he came to realize just how fast and silent some machines could be.

He did know that things couldn't be going too well. With three of the town's men enlisting, there were barely enough people to keep the population safe. Only the fact that Sue's power extended beyond the one that was normal for a sheriff kept them anchored to the piece of land they actually owned.

He broke his stupor with a question.

"I'm sorry; I am being rude and dwelling on my problems. How is Rachel?" he asked the tallest of the three men.

"Oh, she is fine. She is home right now."

"Really? I thought she said she loved her gig too much to quit." It was true; Rachel Berry was, by far, the most successful of the Lima residents. Although she chose to operate from her hometown, her radio show was the most popular at an international level. Emperors and ambassadors from far away lands had already asked her to take over their countries' radio shows. Word had it that even the pirates heard it. It was no wonder, he thought; everybody preferred to hear live songs to war reports. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he actually had the habit of switching stations once a day, before his radio got busted, that is, from his commander's to Rachel's. It was like feeling at home, even among the clouds.

Finn broke into a smile.

"You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"She's on leave because of her pregnancy."

He took a bit of time absorbing that piece of information.

"You..." Finn nodded "You are going to be a father?" Finn nodded again "Oh, but that's great! Congratulations!" he exclaimed, giving Finn a strong hug. This time it wasn't awkward.

"Thanks, man. You can drop by later with Kurt. If, you know, you two aren't too busy with...You know."

Sam snickered behind him. "Come on, you have been brothers-in-law for about five years now..." Finn turned even redder.

David laughed, but blushed as well.

"Speaking of the devil...Why isn't he here?"

"Today's his day off. He's at the pub. He works there now too."

Dave's smile slowly faded to a frown. What?

"Why is he working at Mercede's?"

Finn looked away and suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

"It isn't just him, man. The money...it's just not enough anymore."

"But-I sent him my army money!" he almost exploded. He was pretty sure that he sent quite an amount. He only kept what was required for supplies. Kurt wouldn't need a second job.

"Dave..." Sam said very slowly, leaning against the counter "He stopped receiving army letters five months ago. I thought you knew."

Dave's face fell.

"No, no...I! I _sent_ him one every month!"

"But he didn't receive them." repeated the blonde. David suddenly understood the surprised and confused stares he had received. They all thought he was missing, or worse. He...he needed to get to Kurt.

"Sam, can you store my ship for the night?" Sam nodded and David threw him his keys.

"Courage!" Finn shouted as David tugged the jacket closer to him and walked out of the workshop. It had gotten darker by then and he could see a guy he could no longer remember the name of turning on the gas lamps that were scattered around the land. The workshop took up the space of a small island; therefore David had to cross a bridge to get to the main part of the town.

The bridge was long and it shook with the force of the wind. David suddenly remembered he had not removed his goggles. He quickly took them from where they rested around his neck and tucked them away in his pocket. He wanted to look as normal as possible to Kurt. He looked around. Mist arose from the depths beneath him. The sky in the horizon was setting red as ruby. It seemed like it was going to rain, he thought idly, and removed his gloves as well. He wanted to touch Kurt with his bare hands. As it had been in the past months, whenever he thought of him, he felt a pang in his heart.

Oh, when he got to see him! He longed to take an actual deep look into his face, into his eyes; not just by a scraped, crumpled photo on a locket. He had dreamed about that moment so many times...

First, he'd look at him like he had never seen something as beautiful before (not far at all from the truth).

Then, he'd call his name. Once, he had been pretty close to death. His ship had threatened to fall to the pit and there was nothing he could do about it. He had then made a promise. Were he to make it, he'd never say his beloved's name if he wasn't in his presence. What a stupid thing to promise, he knew, but dying wishes tend to be fulfilled and he survived to say Kurt's name at least one more time.

He'd then apologize. For being stupid; for not staying at home with him, where he truly was needed; for signing up to something that would eventually take his life. Or maybe he'd just apologize. Kurt had always been the smart one, he would understand.

Then he'd kiss him. Oh, how he missed those lips! How many times he had blocked the battle's cries above him with sounds of Kurt's lips smacking, his soft moans or even his constant humming.

Finally, he'd take him to bed. He'd fuck him hard and raw, because he wouldn't remember at first how to be gentle. In war, all that was worth using was strength and coldness. So Kurt wouldn't recognize his Dave at first. He wouldn't beg him to stop either, because he knew that after the fourth or fifth time, Dave would start caressing him and whispering soft words. He would start to properly make love to him.

The bridge ended in one of the biggest islands in the town and there, at the very centre, together with the metaphorical gates, was "McKinley's". Mercedes' pub.

Noise could be heard from within, something natural and predictable. At that hour (it was already dusk), the building was the safest place. He approached the building and the yellowish light hit him in the eyes. He squinted slightly and, taking in a deep breath, he entered.

At first he was taken aback with the brightness of the place. Then, his eyes readjusted and he took in the many familiar faces that currently stared at him. He wasn't expecting to be noticed so quickly. Not the silence being so absolute.

Mike and Tina looked at him from the nearest table. He greeted them and Tina played with her drink a bit more, ducking her head down. Mike, however, got up and gave him a pat in the shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, man." Matt also joined him with a hesitant smile. He knew they had not been particularly friendly before, but Tina ignoring his presence kind of hurt.

The men asked the same questions Sam and Finn had, but he dismissed them all again. They look healthy, at least, even if their vests were now covered with little patches and their pants were a bit worn. He looked over their heads and spotted Mercedes and Quinn by the bar.

He muttered an apology and headed over there, scanning the rest of the pub. Puck and Santana weren't there, probably dining at their home. He'd have to ask about Azimio later. In the farthest corner, huddled up together, were Brittany and Artie. He remembered suddenly to visit Artie's office. He had not consulted a physician since he had gone to the West. Doctors were scarce, and there were even fewer that went to the battle stations.

When he neared the bar and asked for a drink with a tentative smile, Mercedes slapped him in the face.

He saw stars for a few moments, or maybe he didn't see anything at all and that was worse, but he had the courage to indignantly ask "What the hell did I do?"

Mercedes was fuming.

"You come to my pub after you break my boy's heart and you still ask what you did? I ought to-"she was stopped by the gentle touch of Quinn's gloved hand on her arm.

"Leave it, Mercedes." Quinn's hazel eyes were trained on his "He already has been punished enough." She then took a sip in her drink. She was all pretty and delicateness in her pink dress and black bustier, looking like a princess that could do no harm to anyone, a fragile little thing, but she had more power over Mercedes that anyone had ever had. And that was both reassuring and terrifying.

Mercedes' eyes softened and she tugged at the short, puffy sleeves of her crimson dress. She then straightened up and held her chin up high. "And what are you doing here, may I ask?" the roughness still existed in her voice.

"I'm looking for him, of course."

"He's already over you." She snapped "Found a pretty white boy from Westerville. He's a real prince. Moved in his house as well."

She was so blatantly lying that Dave didn't even bother to contradict her. Quinn was silently giggling, if that was possible.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. He said 'I love him and at least he isn't a deadbeat little soldier'"

David was about to argue against the unfairness of that statement when a door to the kitchen opened on his left.

"Mercedes, have you seen that porcelain cup? I swear it was on the balcony-"

Kurt stopped in his tracks and his face was a quick transfiguration of surprise to shock and then anger that culminated in him striding up a few steps and striking him hard across the face. He had barely had the time to register gasps and the idle rattle of the smaller man's clock chain before he hit him again.

"You bastard." He said, hitting him on the sides and punching him further "You fucking bastard." He cursed, continuing to hit him. David must have had a bit of his head untouched, because his brain somehow managed to conclude that his meeting with Kurt wasn't going exactly to plan.

David didn't do anything though, and Kurt kept beating him up. He felt ashamed, not because everybody was staring, but because he knew he deserved that and more, if what Sam had told him was correct.

"I waited for you!" he shouted, and his voice had suddenly gone from angered to sorrowful. His fist came less frequently and without so much strength. "I fucking waited !" he sobbed "Five months-and you!" now the only things that came out of that mouth were loose words, little sounds that made David's heart fall to his feet.

"I'm sorry." He croaked out, and his voice was sore with grief. He took Kurt's hands, which had eventually gotten tired of hitting him, in his and kissed them. Warm tears fell down his cheeks. It had been so long since he had cried, on that last night they had shared almost a year ago; the sounds he made now were strangled and strange ones. The eyes that had remained dried as countless soldiers, his mates, died on the on the battle were now streaming at the bare sight of the only person he truly loved in all the skies. Kurt's crying was much quieter. Dave wondered if he had cried too much in his absence, if those clear blue eyes he loved so much had become puffy and red. Kurt's hand writhed inside his, still struggling. Dave felt the smoothness of his skin, noticed that his hands were not, thankfully, calloused. Even after all those months, it was still his Kurt. With skin like a princess and eyes so clear that it hurt to look at for too long, even if Dave did it anyway.

"Kurt" he finally said, and it was like lifting a curse; everything was now much better because he had the proof that this moment was happening, even if his eyes were wet and unseeing as well as Kurt's. None of that mattered, of course, because he had survived to speak Kurt's name again. "I'm sorry" he repeated.

Kurt buried his head on David's leather jacket. Dave could feel him sniffing, seeing if the taller man truly was there, and David smelled him back. His hair smelled like it always had; perfection and chamomile. He smiled softly as he recalled one time when Kurt had asked him how he smelt like and he had answered him that. He had not believed it, of course. He kissed the top of his head. Kurt then looked up, threw his arms around his David's neck, and kissed him.

Not even the fact that he only had two weeks to spend with Kurt before being sent to battle again made the moment sour. Neither did Mercedes' loud complain nor Quinn's deep sigh. Not the fact that there was probably a certain prince character from Westerville just waiting for him to go away to have a chance with Kurt. No, not even the painful memory of their last departure or the more recent bruises on his arms and head.

He simply kissed Kurt back.

This was beta'ed by to-gild-a-lily on LiveJournal. You can find her account here: http : / to-gild-a-lily . livejournal . com /

Thanks for reading! It means a lot!


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